


a warmer tune

by oryx



Category: Kamen Rider Den-O
Genre: ... sort of, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6007369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Visiting the in-laws.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a warmer tune

_side k._  
   
“You know, Kaori – you remember her, right? Yamamoto’s daughter? – is single now. She broke up with her boyfriend a few months back.”  
   
Kotaro pauses, the potato in his hand hovering just above the electric peeler. He sighs inwardly and glances over at his mother, who as usual is peeling hers by hand, as if it were the ‘30s or something. (She’s always been this way, he thinks. Stuck in the past.)  
   
“Why don’t you ask her out?” she says, setting her small stack of potatoes aside and reaching for a carrot. “Really, Kotaro, you haven’t had a girlfriend since what? Your second year of high school? I know you’re busy with that mystery job of yours you won’t tell me about, but don’t you think it’s time to go on a date or two? Or did you switch to boys without telling me? Because there’s a cute young man who works at the ramen shop up the street, and – ”  
   
“Mom,” Kotaro says, cutting her off. He realizes, distantly, that his free hand is gripping the countertop with painful intensity. “We’ve talked about this. I already have Teddy.”  
   
She smiles in that evasive, noncommittal way of hers. “I know, honey. And you know I love him. But Teddy’s not… He’s… Well. You two just spend so much time together. I think you could use some other people in your life. Some people,” and here she makes a vague gesture with the vegetable peeler, “more like you.”  
   
“More like me?” Kotaro echoes hollowly. “So. Human, then.”  
   
“Oh, you know that’s not what I mean – ”  
   
“That’s _exactly_ what you mean.” He makes a frustrated noise, stepping back from the counter and scrubbing a hand across his face. “Why do you always do this? This is why I hate coming home. You just don’t – ”  
   
He stops mid-sentence, then, because what’s the point? No matter how he tries to explain things, it’s like she purposefully averts her eyes from his true meaning. He’s said the words “I already have Teddy” countless times, in countless ways, but all she ever does is smile and brush them aside, refusing to acknowledge what’s right in front of her.  
   
“Forget it,” he mutters. “You can finish up here, right? I’m going to go help Dad.”  
   
“Kotaro,” she says, in that sad, guilt-tripping tone of voice that she always uses at times like this. But it’s not going to work on him today. He ignores her, squaring his shoulders and marching out of the kitchen, walking at such a clip that the back door almost doesn’t slide open quick enough.  
   
On the patio he paces back and forth in an attempt to calm his irritation. There’s a baseball lying off to the side – the neighbor kids are always tossing them over the fence by accident – and he picks it up, winding back, ready to put all his frustrations into this one throw. Somehow, though, it ends up veering wildly to the left, ricocheting off the old oak tree and –  
   
He hears a muffled “ow,” and looks down the yard to see his grandfather rubbing his temple and staring up at the sky in confusion.  
   
“Oh my god,” Kotaro whispers. He jogs over in a mild panic and leans in to examine the bright red welt forming on his grandfather’s forehead, wincing as he does so. “I’m so sorry. A-are you alright, Grandpa? You don’t feel… _concussed_ or anything?”  
   
His grandfather laughs and waves a hand as if to brush the thought away. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” he says. “Wouldn’t have made it this long if I couldn’t handle getting hit once in a while.”  
   
His affable smile fades away slowly as he studies Kotaro’s face.  
   
“You look upset,” he says. “Did something happen?”  
   
Kotaro can feel his mouth twist into a grimace. “Just the usual,” he mutters. “Trying and failing to have an honest conversation with my mother.”  
   
“… I see.” His grandfather’s eyes soften, then, and he reaches out to put a hand on Kotaro’s arm. “You know, I’m actually in the middle of looking for something. A book. I think I might have left it in the Observatory. You… wouldn’t mind helping me for a minute, would you?”  
   
“A book?” Kotaro echoes, disbelieving. “You know you can just scan those into your tablet, right? Then you wouldn’t have to go hunting around for them.”  
   
“Yes, yes,” his grandfather laughs, already turning to walk away, motioning for Kotaro to follow after. “I’m still a bit behind on all this technology, I’m afraid.”  
   
The Observatory is actually just a rickety old shed, converted a few years back into a place suitable for stargazing. Though it still smells of rust and dirt there’s a homey sort of feel to it anyhow, books piled high on every surface, the walls covered with star maps and old family photos (they might be the only people in the world who still hold on to actual, tangible photographs).  
   
“You’re trying to find one specific book in this mess?” Kotaro mutters, shuffling through a dusty stack of astrological field guides.  
   
“Well, it’s a novel, and I think the cover might be red?” His grandfather ‘hmm’s thoughtfully. “I’m sure I’ll know it when I see it.”  
   
They hunt through the clutter in silence for a time, until suddenly his grandfather says:  
   
“You know, people who have never had a close relationship with Imagin… They don’t always understand.”  
   
Kotaro pauses in his search, thumb trailing along the spine of a book about Jupiter’s moons.  
   
“They seem so different from humans at first,” his grandfather continues. “It’s only once you’ve spent enough time with them that you really start to see. How similar they are, I mean. How they feel things so deeply. Maybe even moreso than we do. They can’t remember who they were in the past, and so they compensate for it in the present. Or at least that’s how I’ve come to think of it. For them… each moment is very precious.  
   
“Your mother… I’m certain she’ll accept things eventually, once she’s gotten to know Teddy a little better. She’s just a bit stubborn in her way of thinking, is all. People get that way, sometimes, when they care a great deal for someone.”  
   
There’s an ache in Kotaro’s chest as he turns to stare at his grandfather’s back, trying to think of something, anything, to say in reply but nothing seems right, and –  
   
“Ah, here it is!” His grandfather holds up a dusty-looking paperback with a faded red cover, its title partially worn away from age. He looks back at Kotaro and smiles. “That didn’t take nearly as long as I thought it would.”  
   
Outside the Observatory he reaches up to clap a hand on Kotaro’s shoulder. “It’s impressive, I think, to be as young as you are and to already know what you want.” His smile turns wistful for a moment. “Maybe I’m a little envious.”  
   
Kotaro frowns, about to ask him what he means, but he’s already walking away with a parting wave, that old paperback tucked beneath his arm. Kotaro watches him for a moment, somewhat perplexed, before turning to look out across the yard. His father is busy working on his herb garden, and –  
   
So is Teddy.  
   
He’s kneeling off to the side, pulling weeds with expert precision, and Kotaro sighs. “Teddy, you realize you’re a guest, right?” he calls. “You don’t have to help with this stuff.”  
   
Teddy glances over his shoulder, eyes brightening a bit, and gets to his feet as Kotaro draws closer. “You know I can’t just sit still when other people are working,” he says, folding and unfolding his hands in front of him. “And this is enjoyable, too. I’ve always thought a garden would be nice, but your apartment isn’t exactly suited for one…”  
   
( _Our_ apartment, Kotaro thinks wearily. He’s long since given up trying to correct him.)  
   
“Still, you could try to relax a little bit m – ”  
   
Something comes hurtling towards him, then, and Teddy’s hand darts out to grab it just in time, hovering just centimeters away from Kotaro’s face.  
   
Kotaro blinks. It’s the wooden handle of a gardening rake, he realizes, letting out the shaky breath he was holding. He glances down to find to find his foot resting squarely on the opposite end.  
   
“Are you alright, Kotaro?” Teddy asks, pulling the rake away and leaning it delicately against a nearby tree. “You should be careful. You know your luck is scheduled to be very poor for the next few days.”  
   
“I – yeah.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Thanks.”  
   
Teddy stares at him in startled silence for a moment before averting his eyes, rubbing at the back of his neck. Kotaro is determined to never take Teddy’s presence for granted again, but that doesn’t mean that either of them is quite used to it yet. Gratitude, he’s found, can at times be annoyingly difficult to express.  
   
“Well I can’t just let you do chores while I stand here,” Kotaro mutters. He glances over at his father, who nods wordlessly and tosses him a spare pair of gardening gloves without having to be asked (as bizarrely in-tune as ever).  
   
“Oh, you should wear this too, then,” Teddy says, reaching back to untie his apron, but Kotaro lifts a hand to stop him.  
   
“It’s fine. These clothes are old anyway. Plus,” and here he can’t help but smile, “it looks cute on you.”  
   
“Y-you think so?” Teddy looks down at himself, fiddling with the dirt-smudged hem.  
   
Kotaro puts an arm around Teddy’s shoulders, leaning in to press a quick kiss against his cheek (solid and smooth, like marble beneath his lips). “Of course it does,” he says. “ _Tendon_.”  
   
“What – Kotaro! You’re still doing that?”  
   
He sounds so put-upon that Kotaro has to bite his lip to keep from laughing, and shakes his head, grabbing a trowel from the nearby wheelbarrow as he settles in to work.  
   
  
   
  
   
_side t._  
   
Kotaro’s childhood bedroom never seems to change.  
   
“I keep telling them they can turn it into an office or something,” he’d muttered the last time they were here, but had seemed pleased all the same. Glad that everything he used to know is still exactly as he left it – glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling, dusty model trains on top of the dresser, hologram pop-up books arranged neatly on the shelf. The title of one of them catching his interest, Teddy pulls it out and –  
   
A sheaf of papers comes loose along with it, scattering across the floor. As he bends down to gather them up he can see that they’re drawings, that of a child’s, with messy, inelegant crayon lines. This one reads “Momotaros” next to a picture of a red creature with horns and fangs, a sword gripped in its hand – not much resemblance to the actual Momotaros, really, but for a child it’s a valiant attempt. The next one is “Kintaros,” with sound effects added for his snores. There’s a drawing for each of Ryotaro’s Imagin, and Teddy can feel a surge of fondness as he flips through them. Kotaro really did love those stories of his grandfather, once upon a time.  
   
There’s one last drawing hidden beneath the others. Teddy holds it up to the light.  
   
_Neotaros_.  
   
He trails a hand across the blue crayon outline. He tries not to dwell on it too much, but there are moments when he’s struck by the strangeness of what he is. Of his form being little more than the creation of one person’s imagination. He could have been something else entirely, had Kotaro simply thought it.  
   
“Where’d you find those?”  
   
Teddy turns to find Kotaro standing in the doorway with a bemused expression, a towel draped over his head, hair still wet from the bath. He walks over and crouches down to shuffle through the old drawings.  
   
“Wow, this is nostalgic,” he laughs. “I guess I must’ve been… what, six when I drew these? I forgot all about them.”  
   
He stares long and hard at the picture labeled “Neotaros,” his smile faltering a bit, jawline taut with barely-disguised tension.  
   
“Is something wrong, Kotaro?”  
   
“Oh, you know. Just my mom trying to set me up on dates again.” He scrubs a hand across his face tiredly. “I should tell her we’re getting married. Maybe then she’d finally take a hint.”  
   
“K-Kotaro!” Teddy splutters. Sometimes he’s glad that he lacks the ability to blush. “Joking about such an important thing wouldn’t be right…”  
   
“Oh, come on. We’re practically married already, aren’t we? It’s her own fault for not noticing.” He leans against the bedframe with a sigh, letting his head fall back against the comforter. “Dunno why she’s so fixated on me dating another human.”  
   
They sit there in silence for a moment, until Teddy can no longer suppress the question that’s been knocking at the back of his teeth and burning at the corner of his mind.  
   
“It’s… only natural, isn’t it?” he says.  
   
Kotaro turns to stare at him, eyebrow raised.  
   
“Your mother only wants the best for you, Kotaro. And you know… maybe she’s right. Maybe it would be better, for you to be with someone more like you.”  
   
Kotaro looks, in this moment, as if he’s just been slapped in the face, and Teddy hurries to add:  
   
“It’s not like I would ever leave you, of course. I will always be your partner. But I think, in the,” and here he pauses, fidgeting nervously, folding and unfolding his hands in his lap, “the _romantic_ sense, someone else might be a better fit for you.”  
   
“… Oi, Teddy,” Kotaro says, his voice breaking ever so slightly. He reaches out to grip Teddy’s forearm, tight enough that his knuckles turn white. “Are you messing with me right now?”  
   
Teddy shakes his head vehemently. “I’m… not soft like a human, Kotaro. I’m not warm. There are – are things I can’t do for you, and I’m sure at some point you’ll wish for them, and I – ”  
   
In a split second Kotaro is on his feet and pacing the room, hands clenched at his sides. “What the hell is this?” he whispers. He stops short and turns on his heel to look Teddy in the eye, and there’s a kind of desperation there that he’s only seen once before. “Are you breaking up with me?”  
   
“No! That’s not – ”  
   
“Then what? It’s you, not me? You… you really think I care about…” His words fade away into nothing as realization hits, his expression closing off, cold and distant like a door slamming shut. He reaches for his wrist, for the love charm that he turned into a bracelet, unhooking it and tossing it to the floor with a clatter.  
   
“Screw you, Teddy,” he says, his voice soft and trembling with quiet anger, and turns to walk away.  
   
“Kotaro, your luck is – ”  
   
“I don’t care,” he shouts over his shoulder. His footsteps can be heard all the way down the hall, followed by the faint whirring sound of the front door sliding open and closed.  
   
In the silence that’s left behind, Teddy reaches out slowly to pick up the bracelet. He turns it over in his hand, tracing the edges of the star charm, and can feel a crushing heaviness creeping up on him, settling deep in his chest.  
   
This, he thinks, may have been a very bad mistake.  
   
He’s almost to the front door, ready to chase after Kotaro, when a voice calls his name. He turns to see Kotaro’s mother peering at him from the kitchen.  
   
“Did you two have a fight?” she says, with a gentle smile. “Teddy, you know how he is. When he gets angry, it’s always best to give him some time to sort his thoughts out.” A thought seems to occur to her. “Come sit with me for a minute. I’ll set out some leftover cake.”  
   
Which is how he winds up joining her at the kitchen table, feeling somewhat awkward as she scrolls through old photographs on her tablet.  
   
“Just in one of those moods, I suppose,” she says with a wink. “I’ve been feeling so nostalgic lately. Oh, look, here’s one of mine and Haruhiko’s wedding – the only time I’ve managed to get my mother and Ryotaro-san in the same picture. And this is my cousin Mana holding Kotaro when he was, what? Two?”  
   
His attention caught, Teddy leans in to get a better look. Strange, to think that there was a time when he didn’t know Kotaro. It feels like it's been forever, and yet this chubby-cheeked toddler with a tuft of flyaway hair is from a time when “Teddy” didn’t yet exist.  
   
“Cute,” he says, speaking aloud without realizing, and Kotaro’s mother laughs.  
   
“Wasn’t he? Not that he isn’t still, of course.” She swipes to a different page, where there are nothing but photos of Kotaro as a child – looking vaguely annoyed on his first day of school, building a sandcastle at the beach, posing with a stag beetle he caught and a triumphant grin.  
   
“You know… worrying about your child is normal for a parent,” she says. “But Kotaro’s luck has always been so terrible that I think I worried more than most. I used to wonder about his future. What would his life be like once I wasn’t there to watch over him? I imagined that he would meet some wonderful person, and they would love him enough to keep an eye on him. I spent so much time thinking about them.”  
   
She scrolls to another page, a thoughtful set to her features, her free hand drumming on the tabletop.  
   
“That’s the sad thing about expectations,” she continues. “Once you get an idea in your head, you can’t shake it. And even when something far better comes along, you can’t see it.”  
   
“That’s…” Teddy begins to say, but can’t seem to get any other words past the tightness in his throat.  
   
“I’m sorry, Teddy,” she says, and reaches out to pat his hand. “For being so dismissive of you. I hope that you’ll continue to watch over Kotaro. He loves you a great deal, you know. More than you seem to be aware of.” She raises an eyebrow, then, pointing to the slice of cake by his elbow. “You haven’t even touched it. Do you not like strawberry?”  
   
  
   
  
   
It’s raining when he leaves to look for Kotaro.  
   
He checks the nearby park, the café with the coffee that Kotaro likes so much, the covered bridge, only to spot him meandering along the riverside path, looking decidedly sad what with his wet clothes plastered to him.  
   
“Kotaro,” Teddy says as he jogs up to him and covers him with the umbrella. “Are you alright? You… what happened to your face?”  
   
There’s a long, vivid red scratch arcing its way across Kotaro’s left cheek, and Teddy can think of far too many possible causes.  
   
“Got hit in the face with a tree branch,” he mutters.  
   
“… I see,” Teddy says, and presses a hand to his mouth to stifle a quiet laugh.  
   
Kotaro whirls around to face him, his expression a cross between amazed, disbelieving, and offended. “Did you just _laugh_ at me?”  
   
“No,” Teddy says, coughing to cover it up. “Absolutely not. You know… You should probably get back to the house. You’ll catch a cold if you’re out here in the rain too long.”  
   
As quick as it came, Kotaro’s good humor is gone again, a bitter edge to his smile. “Well since you clearly know me better than I know myself, I guess I’ll just have to do that, then.”  
   
He reaches out to snatch the umbrella from Teddy’s hand, but Teddy tightens his grip around it instead, leaving them in an awkward close-quarters tug-of-war.  
   
“Please forgive me, Kotaro,” he says, and can hear his own words waver precariously. “It was wrong of me to say those things.”  
   
Kotaro opens his mouth as if to voice some angry retort, but promptly closes it again, a conflicted kind of hesitation flickering across his face. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and Teddy watches as his eyes soften, just a little.  
   
“You get _why_ though, right?” he says finally. “Why I'm angry? You don’t get to decide, whether I'll want someone else or whatever the hell you were on about. I’m… sorry, too. That you felt that way and I didn’t notice. But you can’t just make up my mind for me. That's not how it works, Teddy.”  
   
He makes a half-hearted fist, letting it fall harmlessly against Teddy’s chest, and Teddy reaches up to cover it with his own hand.  
   
“I understand,” he says.  
   
“And,” Kotaro continues, “I don’t care if you’re not like a human. You know that, right? To me… you’re fine just how you are. Better than fine, even.” He leans in to press his lips against the corner of Teddy’s mouth, this single point of warmth cutting through the chill of this rainy day. A kiss that Teddy will never be able to return, not really, but he leans into it nonetheless.  
   
Kotaro pulls back and smiles at him, weary but genuine, tugging at his hand and lacing their fingers together.  
   
“Come on, _Tendon_ ,” he says. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
